


Echo

by museaway



Series: Jim the Construction Worker AU [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (he loves you), (such fears are unfounded), Age Difference, Being afraid your hot boyfriend will leave you for your younger self, Dating, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, New Vulcan, Non-Starfleet AU, Romance, because that's what Candy wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"So you're older than me," Jim said with a shrug. "You're not dead."</em>
</p><p>Spock Prime gets his happy ending when he meets a young architect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CanneDeBonbon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanneDeBonbon/gifts).



> Once upon a time at KiScon, I was struggling through my story for K/S Advent Calendar, and Candy was sketching in a notepad that I later stole. 
> 
> "Why can't Jim and Spock Prime ever end up together and be happy?" we lamented and probably both sighed. 
> 
> The conference room was cold. I huddled over my notebook and glared at my handwriting. Candy continued to draw. Around us, people discussed things related to space husbands. 
> 
> "It would have to be an AU," Candy decided. I nodded mutely and sadly.
> 
> But I thought about it for a while, jotted down a few notes, and leaned forward. "What if Jim didn't go to Starfleet, but he was [a construction worker](http://www.museaway.com/tagged/jim%20the%20construction%20worker%20AU) on New Vulcan, and they met that way?"
> 
> I took her enthusiastic nodding as the green light for this story.

It wasn't logical that Spock should be assigned to oversee construction of the New Vulcan Science Academy. He had little working knowledge of architecture and design, and while he understood the principles of engineering a building, surely there was someone else more suited to supervise the project? Spock told himself that he was not being elitist. It made sense for someone with his expertise to focus on more serious projects, such as documenting what would have been discovered by the VSA had the timeline not been interrupted. Advances in ship technology surely took precedence over archways and interior fountains. But the person originally placed in charge had fallen ill. Spock found himself with the title of project manager, and today, he waited in front of the field that would soon house the institution.

He was to meet with the general contractor, who would handle the day-to-day details of the building's construction. Spock had agreed to meet him at 0730 hours; it was 0752, and the general contractor was nowhere in sight. Spock sighed and held a hand to his forehead to block the sun's harsh light. New Vulcan had only one sun, but it was stronger than either of Vulcan's had been individually. Despite being early morning, the surface temperature was already 115 degrees Fahrenheit. Full-blooded Vulcans did not sweat, but Spock wiped his forehead with a handkerchief he took from the pocket of his robes and continued to wait.

Spock's first impression of the contractor (when he appeared at 08:03 in a white t-shirt, low-slung denim pants, and a pair of dark sunglasses) was that he was far too young to be assigned such a prestigious project. He was clearly human, from his rounded ears and sunny grin he shot at Spock as he approached. He was perhaps twenty-five Standard years of age, with sun-bleached hair, dusty pants, and a deep tan. He resembled a holo Spock had once seen of a young Jim Kirk in Iowa, but Spock quickly banished that thought. Jim Kirk was in Starfleet, and not every attractive human should conjure such a memory. He had stood too long in the sun. Spock could smell him from several feet away, musky and young, somehow familiar. He did not smell like Jim, but Spock found his scent enticing.

Spock accessed his central controls and slowed his breathing when his heart began to pound in his side. He must meditate more frequently. His heart should not react like this. Clearly, his current meditation schedule was inefficient. 

"Sorry, man," the contractor said, wiping his forehead on his arm. Spock grimaced slightly at the action. "Couldn't get the damned replicator to spit out a decent cup of coffee, and I'm total shit without it. Plus I didn't have your ID, so I couldn't call to let you know I was running behind."

"I see," said Spock, and he fought the urge to frown. 

"Anyway," the contractor said and stuck out a hand. "I'm Jim. Pleasure to meet you, Ambassador."

Spock merely glanced at Jim's hand, then back up to his face, to a pleasing curve of lips. Jim laughed and raked the hand through his hair.

"Figured I'd take a chance," he said. "I've got the plans on my PADD, if you want to go over them, but I want to mark the ground while you're here, give you a sense of scale."

It seemed a reasonable first step. Spock inclined his head and motioned that he would follow Jim, who strode out onto the field and stood at its center, arms akimbo. 

"So," he said, "right now, we're standing in what is going to be a central courtyard and meditation garden." 

Jim placed a small object on the ground in front of him, about the size of a closed fist, and pulled out his PADD. He tapped the screen twice, and from all sides of the object shone a bright light. Around them rose a series of transparent blue walls, a transparent fountain churning transparent water. It was...delightful, Spock thought, turning in a circle where he stood. He could easily see the hallway that surrounded the courtyard, the rooms beyond. He tilted his head back and saw blue lines crisscrossing in a phantom building several stories above them. 

"We're obviously going to use as much natural light as possible," Jim said, "but due to the intense sunlight, we're using all non-reflective building materials. No chance of shade here, so it'll be necessary to cool the building. But we'll install photocells wherever possible, and I'm hoping to try a few experimental materials that will allow us to harness more of the sun's energy. My hope is for this building to be self-sufficient, capable of running independent of the city's main power grid." 

"That is logical," Spock admitted, finding himself embarrassed by his first impression of Jim.

"Energy efficiency aside, it'll be a damned fine looking building, if I do say so myself." Jim beamed up at the digital structure overhead and folded his arms over his chest. 

"Who is the architect?" Spock asked.

"Me," Jim said with pride. He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, I'm not used to this heat yet, and I didn't get anything to eat this morning. Do you want to grab something, see the blueprints?"

There was something about his voice which made Spock incapable of saying no, as he had never been able to say no to another man by this name. Spock found himself nodding, and he followed Jim back out of the field and onto the dirt road. It led into the makeshift town which housed the volunteers. Jim tossed the device back and forth between his hands as they walked...somewhere. He realized that he had not bothered to inquire as to their destination. 

"You been here long?" Jim asked.

"I selected the planet," Spock said. "I arrived on the first transport."

"Oh, so you're _that_ ambassador?"

"I am."

"I heard all about what happened to your planet. I'm really sorry."

"Your guilt is unnecessary," Spock told him. 

"It's just a human expression," Jim said. "That same Romulan? Killed my dad the day I was born. I really hope he's fucking dead."

"Your father served on the _Kelvin_?" Spock asked, glancing at Jim sideways. 

"He was the first officer," Jim said and kicked at a rock. It skipped several feet ahead of them and off of the path into the scrubby brush. "The papers all listed his rank as captain, though, which I guess he technically was. For twelve minutes, at least."

Jim's words sent a cold chill through Spock. He knew the _Kelvin_ 's story well, knew exactly who the first officer had been. It was not possible that this young man beside him was George Kirk's son. Jim had not been on board the _Enterprise_ when Spock had beamed aboard with Mr. Scott, but Spock had looked up his records once he reached Earth. An article documenting recent Starfleet recruits had listed Jim as having enlisted in 2255. It was not possible that this was Jim Kirk, and yet...

Spock studied Jim's neck, the curve of his shoulder, the way his hips moved as he walked. He found his own throat suddenly dry and tried to swallow. Jim was here on New Vulcan? He was an architect? The facts made no sense, yet Jim was walking beside him. Spock could not refute that, nor the fact that those were Jim Kirk's hands holding the electronic device. Yes, he recognized them now and felt his heart stutter in his side. 

"You are George Kirk's son?" he asked, aware that his voice was strained.

"Yeah," Jim said. 

"I grieve with thee," Spock offered and suppressed a shiver. 

"Thanks, but it's not like you knew him. Or...did you?"

"We met only briefly," Spock replied. He recalled the _Enterprise_ 's send off, and the polite introduction his new captain had made of his parents, who had been present for the launch. 

"Oh," Jim said. "My mom has never talked a lot about my dad's career. Where'd you meet him?"

"In San Francisco," Spock said, "at Starfleet headquarters."

"Cool," Jim said. They arrived at the replicator bank. He punched up some type of sandwich; Spock ordered a bowl of broth. He was not particularly hungry, but he didn't want to sit idly while Jim ate. Food in hand, they set off toward a row of tents. Jim motioned to the third aisle.

"You know," Jim said, "when they told me I'd be living out of a tent for a few months, I thought it was an exaggeration."

"Is your dwelling satisfactory?" Spock asked. 

"Fine," Jim said. "It's literally a tent. The community replicator bank is pretty smart, though. Saves us from having to power the individual units, though I admit it's a pain if you're hungry at midnight."

"I would imagine," Spock said.

"Do you live in town?"

"Yes."

"I bet you've got a nice place, running water."

"It is practical," Spock said, "though you are correct. It does have basic plumbing and electricity."

"You've probably got a private shower too," Jim said, " _and_ a washing machine."

"You are welcome to use my facilities," Spock heard himself offer. It was not logical for them to serve only him. And this was Jim, even though it was...not. 

"Careful, I might take you up on that," Jim said, motioning to the tent on their left. "Watch your head; the fastenings stick out. You want a bottle of water?"

"Thank you," Spock said, and Jim handed him one. The water was air temperature, warm on his tongue, but it gave Spock something to occupy his hands now that he had set down his canister of soup. He found his hands were unsteady as he repressed the questions he longed to ask and settled across a folding table from Jim.

"So," Jim said, flipping his chair backwards and straddling it. He held the sandwich in one hand and a stylus in the other. He had removed his sunglasses; Spock noted with distress that Jim's eyes were not brown as he remembered but a vivid blue. He could not look away from them and felt a lump form in his throat. He willed his heart to remain at a proper resting rate, sure that Jim could hear its pounding. Jim powered on his PADD and set it between them. 

"These are the plans which have been approved by the Vulcan council," he said, "though I have some modifications I'd like to suggest that I didn't submit with the first draft. I designed the building before I was on planet, and now I'd like to take advantage of the landscape, natural resources, the blending of cultures."

"You do not feel your original design is sufficient?" Spock asked, setting the water aside and bringing the soup to his lips. He drank from the container quietly; its quality was passable but not as flavorful as the soup his own replicator made.

"Sufficient?" Jim repeated, curling a hand over the back of the chair and biting into the sandwich. He chewed for a few seconds and swallowed. "Sure. But I want to strive for more than sufficient."

"Indeed?"

"Technically," Jim said, leaning back, "this project qualifies as my thesis. I pull this off, and I get my full architect's license. Everything I design is overseen by my mentor back on Earth."

"You are young, to have completed your studies."

"I'm twenty-five," Jim said defensively. "I've put in six years, with a brief stint in Starfleet."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Jim said, slapping the back of the chair. "Anyway, if you like the plans, we can build as-is, but I'd really like to make a few modifications, run them by you. If that's okay."

"By how much would the timeframe be affected?"

"A few days," Jim said. "But half of my workers aren't on planet yet, and I'm waiting on two supply drops."

"In that case," Spock said, "I look forward to reviewing your suggestions."

"Cool," Jim said and smiled at him. Spock's heart clenched at the sight. "Anyway, let me show you what I have so far."

***

Spock walked back to his home in silence, his hands clasped before him and his head bowed. His thoughts were on Jim. He was dimly aware that people spoke to him as he passed, addressing him with the ta'al raised. Twice, he raised his hand late in reply. Once, he failed altogether. No doubt it would be marked down to his age; he was old enough to be forgiven the occasional eccentricity. Rumors no longer bothered him. 

It was not yet lunchtime when he walked in the front door, glad for the cooler air of his modest house. He went straight to the low sofa before the fireplace and sank onto it, taking the pendant which hung at his neck from where it was hidden underneath his robes. He held it in his palm and closed his eyes. His own breaths came hard; they were unsteady, and he was aware of a tightness in his throat. It was logical to rest. He reclined on the couch and pulled a thin blanket over his legs

Daydreaming was rare for Spock, but he conjured Jim as he remembered him: golden haired, crinkled eyes, a warm palm curved over Spock's cheek. "I'll be back soon," he'd promised. 

It served no purpose to continue to mourn Jim ninety-four years later. Jim was dead, and yet Spock dreamed of them walking side-by-side on New Vulcan, of the look in Jim's eyes as they stood gazing up at the stars. When Jim turned, it was the younger version who regarded Spock, with his eyes the color of Earth's sky. Though the thought was absurd, he entertained the notion that perhaps the universe was playing a trick on him. 

Foolish. These were the thoughts of a foolish old man. _Kaiidth_. He would endure this. 

***

"Hand me that stylus, will you?" Jim asked, motioning to the slim instrument just to Spock's right. They were again seated in Jim's sparse accommodations, the fourth time in a week. Today, Jim sat correctly in his chair and pushed his glasses further up his nose as he worked. 

Spock lifted the stylus in two fingers and held it out to Jim, who took it with a smile. His hand brushed Spock's momentarily, and Spock clenched his jaw against the feeling that contact sent through him. 

"Thanks," Jim said and lowered his face to his PADD.

"If it would be more convenient," Spock said, straightening, "you can send me the revised plans, once you have finished them."

"I like the company," Jim said, grinning up at him. "Unless you've got somewhere you need to be?"

"Not at the moment," Spock said and looked around him. Jim had little in terms of creature comforts, just a stack of hardcover books beside a hastily made bed. His suitcase overflowed with unfolded clothes. On the ground, Spock counted two right boots and one left in addition to the pair on Jim's feet. It was not dissimilar to his own Jim's quarters, which had been kept neat because of an efficient yeoman and later because he shared the space with Spock. 

"If you want water, help yourself," Jim said, waving to the gathering of bottles in a basket just inside the tent flap. 

"I am fine," Spock told him. 

"So what made you choose the colony?" Jim asked. "I've heard a lot of Vulcans are opting to stay put, accept what happened."

"I believe in accepting what is," Spock said slowly. "However, Nero's interference in this universe should not have occurred."

"So you feel the need to try and fix what he did?"

"Yes."

"I like to think that maybe my dad lived in another universe," Jim said, biting the inside of his cheek. "You're the one from the future, right? Or is that just a rumor?"

Of course Jim would have heard that; of course Jim would ask. Spock didn't want to answer him. Instead, he straightened in his chair and attempted to shift the conversation.

"It is my hope that we will be able to catalogue the majority of information that was lost from the Science Academy's database," he said after a minute. Jim's sigh was faint; he rubbed his forehead. 

"I can't believe you didn't have a backup off-world," he said. 

"It would not have been logical to allocate resources to store information off-planet. We had no reason to believe our planet would be destroyed. Logically, the safest location to store our culture's knowledge was on Vulcan."

"I guess."

"May I inquire as to why you chose to leave Starfleet?" Spock asked. Jim shrugged. 

"It wasn't for me," Jim said. "My best friend's still enlisted. He's a doctor, serves on the new flagship. He says it's okay, though space scares the hell out of him, especially after they almost got blown up. But Pike's a cool captain, Bones says. He's the one who knew my dad, got me to enlist in the first place."

"Indeed?" Spock said, thinking of Pike fondly.

"Rescued me from a bar fight. It wasn't one of my finer moments." Jim laughed and adjusted his glasses again. The movement was familiar and bittersweet. Spock had watched his own Jim perform the same action countless times. "I put in a year with Starfleet, did well in all of my classes. I just didn't feel any passion for it, but I've always liked creating things. I used to work with a local builder in Riverside when I was a teenager to pick up some extra credits, and went out east to study architecture. I was home on winter break when I ran into Pike, so I took a year off to explore my options."

"What changed your mind?"

"I studied shipbuilding at the Academy in my second semester, realized I missed construction. It's amazing to look at a set of plans and at a finished building, to know you helped make that."

"Would you not feel the same way about a new culture you have discovered?"

"Sure," Jim said. "But that's not enough to get me to re-enlist. Besides, they weren't happy with me for leaving."

"I would imagine not."

"So what's your opinion on this new photosensitive paint?" Jim asked, sliding the PADD across to him. Spock's eyes lingered on Jim's hands longer than they should have.

When Spock readied to leave, intent on using what remained of the afternoon to document what he recalled of 2267, he noted a pile of soiled clothing beside Jim's bedroll. He motioned to it.

"Oh," Jim said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "Every time I go to the laundry tent, there's a line. I've got enough clothes to get me through another week."

"I recall informing you that you may use the laundry machine in my home," Spock said.

"Yeah," Jim said slowly. "I just...well, honestly I figured you were being nice. I mean, we'd just met. I didn't expect you to let a total stranger in your house."

"We are no longer strangers."

"I guess not."

"I work from home," Spock said. "You are welcome any time."

"Yeah," Jim said. "Okay. I'll think about it."

He smiled at Spock as he held the tent flap open for him. Spock was still thinking of that smile when he fell asleep.

***

Spock was surprised to find Jim Kirk on his doorstep the next morning, a mesh laundry bag slung over his shoulder. 

"I figured, what the hell," Jim said, grinning and biting his lip. His skin glistened with sweat from the walk, with a heavier concentration above his lip and across his forehead. He was wholly appealing. 

Spock showed him into the house and directed him to the small alcove off of the kitchen, where the laundry machine was situated. Jim shoved half the contents of his laundry bag inside and closed the door to begin the cleaning cycle. 

"You did not separate like colors," Spock commented with a raised eyebrow.

"Eh," Jim said and yawned. "It's easier this way. I don't suppose you've got coffee, do you?"

"I have tea," Spock offered and went to put on the kettle when Jim nodded. 

"Nice place," Jim called from the common room, where he was presumably perusing Spock's few possessions. Spock could hear him pacing on the hard floor in front of the fireplace. He recalled the sketch of his Jim that sat in the bookshelf just off of the kitchen; he quickly retrieved it, tucking it inside the cover of a book. It was best that Jim not know about his other self just yet. Perhaps Spock would tell him when they had known one another longer, but not today. 

"So is it just you?" Jim asked as Spock took down two mugs from the cupboard. He arranged them on a slim tray, along with four biscuits. 

"It is," he replied. 

"You've got a lot of space, for one guy."

"It is an ambassador's dwelling," Spock explained, coming to stand in the archway which led to the common room. Jim's back was to him. "When I am gone, another will occupy this house, so it is necessary it be able to accommodate a family."

"Do you have any kids?"

"I had a stepson," Spock said, "but he died many years ago."

"I'm sorry." Jim shoved his hands deep into his pockets and turned to face him. "You were married, then?"

"I was. He too died many years ago." 

Jim nodded slowly and walked over to the window, rocking back onto his heels. 

"So what else do you do, besides oversee the NVSA construction?"

"I am documenting technological advances which would have occurred had the timeline not been interrupted," Spock said, relieved by the change of subject. Jim's eyebrows raised slightly at Spock's admission. He looked pleased to have his suspicions about Spock confirmed.

"As cool as that is," Jim said, "isn't it possible that you're hindering advances which might come out of this timeline, if you try to move development in another direction? You didn't have a catalyst like Nero where you're from. Who knows what you'll be able to develop now, with that in your past."

"That is logical," Spock admitted. "However, what I document will not be shared with the general Vulcan population."

"I see," Jim said. "I guess it's smart you're recording everything. Is it like a time capsule, to be opened at a future date?"

"In a sense."

Jim reached up and touched a piece of sandstone situated on the mantel. "This is pretty," he said. 

"It is from Earth," Spock said. 

"Looks familiar, kinda like the stuff they used to mine not far from my mom's." Jim let his hand linger on the rock. Spock looked away but did not confirm its origin. In the kitchen, the kettle began to whistle. Spock poured boiling water into both mugs and brought the tray into the common room. He sat on the sofa, and Jim folded himself into a neat pile on the floor, leaning an elbow on the table. 

"You are welcome to use a chair," Spock told him dryly. Jim grinned at him and shook his head.

"It's nice to be able to stretch out," he said. "Do you mind?"

"I do not."

They drank their tea in companionable silence, Jim occasionally catching his eye and smiling. He wiped crumbs from his mouth; they fell onto his shirt and the floor. It had been so long since Jim Kirk sat before him like this: casually, intimately. He had removed his boots, and Spock could see his ankles where they stuck out from his pants. They were pale, unlike the rest of him, with sparse, light hair. Spock remembered the feel of Jim's ankle beneath his fingers, the smooth skin of his instep. Jim ate a second biscuit and swallowed, glancing over his shoulder, then back to Spock.

"Listen," he said. "Would you mind if I grab a shower while I'm here? I can't get clean in the sonics down at the camp."

"My home is open to you," Spock said. Jim took a third biscuit, which Spock had intended for himself, and ate it in two bites. 

"Are all Vulcans as nice as you?" he asked.

"I am only half Vulcan," Spock replied.

"What's the other half?" 

"My mother was human."

"No kidding," Jim said. 

"Vulcans do not kid."

Jim seemed amused by that. He caught his face in his hand for a minute, then got to his feet. "Are there towels in the bathroom?" he asked.

"It is a sonic shower," Spock explained. "But if you would like me to wash the clothing you currently have on, there are robes and towels in the closet just there." He indicated a small door just outside the bathroom.

"Yeah, I didn't expect a water shower in the desert," Jim said. "Thanks. I'll just grab a quick shower, get my stuff, and get out of your hair. I'm sure you're busy."

He was not, and Spock opened his mouth to say as much, but Jim had already turned away.

Jim left his clothes on the floor just outside the bathroom. Spock stooped to collect them. He deposited them on top of the machine, which hadn't yet completed its first cleaning cycle, and went out into the garden. It was pleasant here. The climate was similar to Vulcan's: arid, hot, with less oxygen than Earth. His choice of planet was logical, and it was good to be surrounded by his own people. Still, this was not Vulcan and never would be. 

He sat in one of the chairs on the small patio, staring over his garden wall at the sky, which was bright with afternoon sun. He must have dozed off, because he awoke when Jim curled a hand over his shoulder.

"Hey," he said, staring down at Spock with a bemused expression. "You okay?"

"I am fine," Spock said, inhaling deeply and blinking several times to chase away the drowsiness. Jim wore only a towel, slung low around his hips. It came to his knees and parted where he bent. Spock licked his lips and looked away. 

"Just checking," Jim said, removing his hand. "It is pretty warm out here."

He sat on the opposite chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

"This is quite a view you've got," Jim said, pointing to the mountains in the distance. 

"It is comparable to the view from any other dwelling in New ShiKahr," Spock said, casting him a sidelong glance. His eyes fell to Jim's stomach, and he swallowed. Jim had always been an attractive man, but Spock had not known him at this age. His body was trim, muscles well toned, skin firm and clear. Spock wanted to touch him, could feel the stirring in his own body at the idea. He forced himself to look up at the sky, at the formation of clouds which moved to obscure the mountains. 

"Still a nice view," Jim commented and leaned back with his arms behind his head. 

***

Once he had approved the revised plans, which incorporated many of Jim's innovations, Spock made himself scarce at the construction site. A part of him wished to visit daily, to spend more time with Jim, to witness the progress first hand. But he found himself afraid to go, afraid that if he did, he would not wish to leave. Jim messaged him regularly with updates and holos. Occasionally the message was a vid, recorded in Jim's tent in the evening, when the light was low. The vid quality was often pixellated, and Spock was ashamed that he watched the messages more than a single time. 

But Jim insisted Spock be present for the day they lay the cornerstone. He sent a message early that morning, asking Spock to meet him on site at 0800 sharp. Spock briefly wondered how Jim would react if Spock were to show up thirty-three minutes late, as Jim had done during their first meeting. However, he dressed and walked into town, arriving thirteen minutes ahead of schedule. He was surprised to find Jim already there, staring at his PADD and tapping a stylus against his lips beneath an open tent. Spock turned his back and surveyed the field, again lit by the transparent blue lines demarcating where the building would stand. The foundation was dug, poured into deep trenches. Spock could see the pile of stones to be laid. 

Spock smelled Jim before he saw him, musty and so, so human. He inhaled indulgently, just once, and held the breath longer than was necessary. 

"Hey," Jim said, his boots crunching the gravel, his voice cheerful. "You've been avoiding me."

"I have been busy," Spock replied. It was not a lie, he assured himself. The past eleven days had proven most productive. 

"Just busting your stones," Jim said good-naturedly. He cleared his throat and looked away."Listen, do you want to grab dinner sometime?"

"We have eaten a meal together eight times," Spock replied uncertainly. 

"Yeah, I know," Jim said, laughing as he pushed a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not great at this. I'm trying to ask if you want to have dinner. With me."

"To discuss the building's progress?"

"To discuss ourselves," Jim clarified. "Get to know each other better."

"You are suggesting a date," Spock said after a moment. 

"Are you accepting?"

"Jim," Spock said, lowering his voice. "You are aware of my age."

"So you're older than me," Jim said with a shrug. "You're not dead."

"Indeed not," Spock said. "However, the difference in our age is one hundred thirty-two years."

"You seemed to like me well enough in a towel."

"I will not deny that I find you attractive," Spock murmured, a little exasperated.

"Good," Jim said. "So I'll come by your house later, after I'm done here?"

"Why?" Spock asked.

"Um," Jim said and scratched the back of his neck. "Because I like you? You're interesting. You make me laugh."

Spock found himself at a lack for words. If Jim belonged with anyone, surely it was the Spock of this universe? Only Jim was not a member of Starfleet, and Spock did not wish to see his younger self leave the service if he desired to remain. It would not be wrong to accept. Perhaps Jim simply wanted company. Spock was more than willing to provide it. 

"I would appreciate the opportunity to share a meal," he said finally. Jim's face brightened. 

"Good," he said again and walked off to speak with a man guiding a wheelbarrow.

Spock stood watching Jim, as Jim watched the cornerstone be lowered into place. The building would be complete within a year. Spock would not have Jim for long, but he would have him. Surely to have Jim in any capacity was a blessing? It would only mean heartbreak when he left. There was no question that Jim would leave once the work was complete. It would still be worth it, for whatever time they would have together.

Yes, Spock told himself. This was logical.

***

Jim arrived in a clean blue shirt, freshly showered, carrying a sprig of pale yellow flowers. He twirled them in his fingers from where he leaned against the doorframe.

"Hi," he said, but he didn't come inside, just watched Spock through half-lidded eyes.

"Good evening," Spock said. 

"So I didn't actually make any plans past getting to your front door," Jim confessed. 

"You have procured flowers," Spock commented. Jim chuckled to himself and handed them to Spock, who took them and bowed his head.

"Wasn't sure if that was appropriate or not," Jim explained. "I'm not up-to-date on Vulcan courtship. They were growing just outside my tent."

"Will you come in?" Spock asked.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Jim bit his lower lip and glanced behind him. "We could work up an appetite."

"That would be acceptable," Spock said and closed the door behind him. He lay the flowers at his doorstep and folded his hands in front of him, falling into step with Jim. "Where do you wish to go?"

"Figured we could just do a lap around the neighborhood," Jim said. "You can show me the sights."

For two hours, they walked side by side, and Spock found himself content to listen to Jim speak about the architecture they passed. Jim related that he had been surprised that the houses did not look the way they had on Vulcan. At first glance, they appeared Terran, with traditional A-frame roofs and symmetrically arranged, rectangular windows. Vulcan windows were typically rounded and bisected by decorative metal pieces which aided in the window's strength against wind storms. They were also aesthetically pleasing. Spock explained that the winds here were milder, and the rectangular windows had been donated by a Terran corporation. 

"It's a shame," is all Jim said. 

It was sunset when they returned to the house and Spock unlocked the front door. He picked up the sprig of flowers and controlled the blush before it spread into his cheeks. 

"You still up for dinner?" Jim asked.

"That is the condition upon which I agreed to spend the evening with you."

"Good, because I replicate one hell of a meal," Jim said and walked past Spock into the house. 

They ate pasta tossed with vegetables in the common room rather than at the dining table, which was piled with documents. Jim sat sideways on the couch with both legs tucked under him, turned to face Spock. He held a plate on his lap and twirled the noodles on a fork; Spock ate with skewers and leaned over the coffee table. When they were both finished, Jim took Spock's plate from him and stacked it with his, laying the skewers on top. He wiped his hands on his jeans and scooted closer, so close that Spock could hear him swallow. 

Jim had oil on his mouth, and his lips shone. Spock stared at them longer than he should have, but he did not move. Jim laughed quietly to himself and leaned his head against the back of the couch, watching Spock all the while. 

"Was dinner okay?" Jim asked.

"You are indeed proficient in your use of a replicator," Spock said. Jim smiled at him and rubbed the side of his face. 

"Sadly, that's all the cooking I can do."

"It is a practical skill but not essential."

"Man, you're easy on me," Jim said. He pressed his face into his arm and grinned. "Listen, I hate to end things early, but I've got to be on site at the ass crack of dawn."

"I understand," Spock told him.

"You're not going to go another couple weeks before you talk to me again, are you?"

"No," Spock answered, feeling a bit foolish. "I will visit the site as often as you wish."

"Come every day, if you want," Jim said. "I like having you around."

"You are rather forward," Spock said, not as a judgment, but as a comparison to another Jim Kirk. He and that Jim had waited long to make their feelings known. This Jim was leaning toward him on the couch.

"Well," Jim said in a low voice which made heat curl in Spock's abdomen, "what the hell's the logic in waiting?"

He grinned and rose in a fluid movement, his pants tightening over the front of his thighs as he did so. He carried the plates to the kitchen; Spock heard the clink clink clink of him loading everything into the sonic dishwasher. 

He showed Jim to the door, reluctant to see him leave, and opened it slowly. Jim stood outlined against the night, and he turned back to look at Spock, tilting his head.

"Do you want to do this again?" he asked. 

"Yes," Spock said. 

"Then this is the part where you kiss me," Jim declared and wrapped one hand around Spock's neck. The kiss was brief, just a press of lips, and then Jim was grinning his way out the door. 

Spock placed the flowers in a small vase on his bedside table, even though to do so was sentimental. He removed the pendant from his neck and lay it beside the vase. When Jim had given it to him as a gift, Spock had thought it an excessive display of emotion, even between bondmates. But when Scotty contacted him about the accident, Spock immediately reached for it. He had not gone a day without it around his neck, not in nearly a century. He deeply regretted that he had not shown Jim more outward affection in their days together. He would not make that same mistake again.

It did not surprise him to receive a message from Jim as he was preparing for bed. 

>> That was fun. Night

From the way his heart pounded, Spock felt as though he were young again. He covered it with a hand and wrote Jim a message in return, thinking of him fondly as he drifted to sleep.

***

Jim was a regular presence in Spock's common room, usually lounging around the low table. Eight times, he lay on the couch, with his feet inches from Spock's legs. The past three visits, he stood behind Spock and placed his hands on Spock's shoulders.

"You're tense," he said tonight and rubbed methodically. His thumbs dug deeply into Spock's trapezius muscle, and Spock groaned softly. Jim seemed pleased by this; Spock could discern it through his touch. "You need to get up more during the day, shouldn't sit at that table as long as you do."

"It is difficult to work if one is not seated," Spock told him.

"You've got a voice-activated PADD," Jim chastised, leaning closer to his ear. "You're just being stubborn."

He laughed, and his laughter was a warm breath across Spock's temple. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, rolling his shoulders as Jim continued to massage them. 

"So when do I get to see your bedroom?" Jim asked, his voice teasing, but Spock knew the question was serious.

"Jim..." Spock said, taking Jim's hands in his and gently removing them from his shoulders. Jim leaned forward, so that his arms encircled Spock, and their cheeks pressed together.

"I know you guys aren't big on casual sex," Jim said quietly. He kissed the side of Spock's face. "I'm okay with that. I mean, I'm okay if this is more than...casual."

"It has been many years," Spock said. 

"How many?"

"Since I engaged in such an act for pleasure?"

"Is there another kind?" Jim asked. Spock felt his confusion through their skin.

"Indeed."

"Pleasure, then."

"More than I wish to enumerate."

"Time we fixed that, don't you think?" Jim asked. He kissed Spock's face again, longer this time. His touch was sincere and adoring, and Spock's breath caught.

"You should be with someone your own age," he said weakly.

"Don't care," Jim said into his ear. 

The sight of Jim sprawled beneath him on the couch, golden skinned and laughing, was the most beautiful sight Spock had seen in years. He held Jim against his chest, and they rutted against one another. Jim touched him everywhere and gasped into his neck, sweet and harsh and insatiable. Spock proudly wore the bruises afterwards, touching the ones on his neck as he watched Jim's chest rise and fall beside him. He pulled a throw over their bodies and cradled Jim in his arms, kissing him though he slept.

During the night, it was Jim who did the kissing to Spock's shoulder and neck until he woke fully. 

"Thank god for weekends," Jim whispered. "Want to show me your bedroom now?"

Jim took his hand and led him there. They were both naked, and Spock felt no shame. He followed Jim, who pulled back the covers and climbed beneath them, tugging Spock in with him. Jim lay his head on Spock's chest. They fell asleep again in the dark. Spock had one hand on Jim's neck and one on the pendant around his own.

***

"Hand me that nail gun," is the first thing Spock heard Jim say upon entering the building. He gathered his robes, which were long enough that they caught on debris and became white at the edges with dust. He walked toward the sound of Jim's voice and spotted him standing on a stepladder. 

Jim was shirtless, wearing only shorts and a pair of boots. His upper body was exposed, well toned and slicked with sweat. With his right arm, he aimed the nail gun into a piece of wood and fired. His muscles flexed, and he lowered his arm. Spock closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. 

"Oh, hey," Jim said when he saw Spock standing a few feet away. He handed the nail gun to one of his workers and hopped down from the ladder, peeling off his gloves. "Glad you came. Do you want to see the progress?"

Spock nodded that he would. Jim grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler, offered one to Spock, and waved that he should follow. Spock remained a respectable eighteen inches from Jim's side. He had never initiated physical contact with Jim in public, and this would not be an appropriate location. Although they had engaged in intimacy on nineteen occasions, Spock was uncertain whether Jim would openly acknowledge their relationship. Spock was satisfied to have Jim to himself behind closed doors, so he addressed him as Mr. Kirk and followed him to where the blueprints were projected.

"They're framing in the fourth floor today," Jim said, waving his finger through a series of blue lines. "Any news from the council?"

"Only that they are satisfied with the progress."

"Yeah?" Jim asked. 

He grinned and shook his head, tilting his head back so he could drink the entire contents of his water bottle. Spock watched his throat bob and traced the outline of a fading bruise he knew matched his teeth. 

"You're staring," Jim whispered. Spock dropped his gaze and pressed his lips into a line. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyes to the blueprints. 

"If you have nothing to report, I will inform the council that construction is on schedule."

"I didn't say I mind," Jim said, stepping closer. He nudged him with an elbow. "You want to do dinner tonight?"

Spock glanced around the room. They were not alone, and Jim had not spoken his request quietly. Several construction workers turned their heads to look at them, but Jim looked sunnily at him. Spock nodded despite the audience. 

"Good," Jim said. "That gives you a few hours to decide what you want for breakfast."

Uncertain how to react, Spock stared at Jim dumbly. Jim just laughed and put a hand on his arm, kissed him with a dusty mouth. 

"If you're going to stay on site, keep staring, okay? Gives me an ego boost."

***

Jim became a part of Spock's daily life through articles of clothing left behind when he stayed the night, through bite-shaped marks on Spock's neck and shoulders. Nights he did not stay over, he sent messages before he went to sleep, sweet nothings which caused Spock's heart to soar. When he lay in bed with Spock, he pressed his face against Spock's neck and kissed him goodnight behind his ear. 

The building's construction moved along on schedule. Spock counted the days until its completion: one hundred twenty-nine, one hundred twenty-eight, one hundred twenty-seven. The council members were pleased with the progress, but despite their praise, Spock experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach when he thought of the day, not long from now, when Jim would leave.

"What is this, anyway?" Jim asked, twirling the pendant's chain around his index finger. They lay on the common room floor, in front of the fireplace. Jim was shirtless, and he panted into Spock's mouth. "You always wear it."

"It was a gift," Spock said and stilled Jim's hand. 

"Should I be jealous?"

"In this case, jealousy is illogical," Spock said. "The giver is dead."

"So I'm competing with a ghost, huh?" Jim murmured and kissed Spock's throat. 

***

**Four months later**

"You know, the building's going to be done in two weeks," Jim said, kicking his heels into the side of Spock's desk. He'd asked the master carpenter to construct it in his spare time, and he wouldn't tell Spock how many credits it had cost him. It was the loveliest gift Spock had ever received, carved from replicated hardwoods. 

"It will be a proud day," Spock said, feeling a lump form in his throat. He tapped the screen of his PADD unnecessarily. "Will you return to Earth immediately?"

"That's the thing," Jim said, sniffing. "There's a lot more to do out here, more than just one building that needs to go up. New ShiKahr isn't finished. You guys don't even have a proper restaurant yet. So I was thinking, if you'd be okay with it, maybe I'd stick around for a while?"

"What about your career?" Spock asked.

"Think I'd have a pretty good one here," Jim said. Spock did not answer; he stared at his PADD until the screen went dark, then up at Jim. 

"I thought you might want me to stay," Jim said quietly. "If I'm way off base, just tell me."

"Where will you live?" Spock asked instead.

"I was gonna see if they'd let me stay where I am right now, while I look for someplace permanent."

"You do not need to ask," Spock said, lowering his head. 

"I didn't want to presume. It's only been a couple months."

"As you once said to me," Spock said carefully, "what is the logic in waiting?"

"You've got me there," Jim said, forming his hand into a phaser and pointing it at Spock. "So if I show up with a suitcase in the morning, you're not going to freak out?"

"I do not believe I have ever freaked out," Spock told him with a smile. 

"You look good like that," Jim said, touching Spock's chin. He angled it up and leaned down to kiss him. Spock hardly cared when Jim's arm knocked a stack of PADDs onto the floor when Spock dropped to his knees and helped Jim out of his pants.

***

"Are there any possessions you wish to have sent from Earth?" Spock asked. He turned around in the bedroom and pinpointed the five personal items Jim had brought with him: his laundry bag, a small holo of his mother and brother, two hardcover books, and his reading glasses. 

"Not really," Jim said, flopping back on the bed. "There was a chess set I owned as a kid, but it was plastic. Not worth the shipping. Besides, your board is nicer."

"I want you to feel that this is your home," Spock told him. 

"Don't you get it?" Jim said and reached out a hand. Spock took it and stretched out next to him.

"Were you planning to clarify?" he asked.

"I don't care about _stuff_ ," Jim said. "I just care that you're here."

It was perhaps the sweetest thing Jim Kirk had ever said to him. His own Jim had never been so forthcoming with emotion, out of respect for Spock's heritage. When they served together, Spock would have been embarrassed by such a declaration. But this Jim... _this_ Jim looked at him with unmatched fondness, with such youthful adoration, that Spock couldn't help smile at him. He smoothed a hand over Jim's cheek, brushing each of his meld points. 

One day, he told himself. One day he would ask if Jim would join with him this way as well, to provide Spock's mind with a haven. Perhaps...perhaps one day, Jim might even wish for a more lasting connection between them. It was wishful thinking, he knew. 

Jim leaned into Spock's hand and turned his head into it, licking a stripe along Spock's palm.

"Wanna get naked?" he asked. Spock readily complied, thoughts of melding forgotten for now.

***

Starfleet broadcasted the ribbon cutting ceremony across their network, so it was not a surprise when Jim's comm chirped frequently all afternoon with phone calls from friends and family. They offered congratulations on the project's completion, and several inquired as to the older Vulcan he'd been seen touching frequently during the broadcast from the NVSA's front steps. 

A reception followed the ceremony, held under a large white tent. Jim's attention was occupied for the majority of the event; he answered questions and gave brief interviews, and even spoke in Vulcan to several members of the high council, who seemed impressed with him. Spock watched Jim with pride and felt, not for the first time, the surge of a long-forgotten emotion. 

They went straight home once the reception ended. Jim backed Spock into the bedroom and had them both out of their clothes before Spock's legs touched the bed. He fell backwards onto it, and he stared up reverently at Jim, who framed Spock's hips with his knees and grinned down at him as he reached into the bedside table.

Jim's body was tight and warm; Spock would not last long. Jim clenched around him and began to move, moaning with each thrust of his hips. He came later, in Spock's mouth, and Spock stilled once he had swallowed. He pulled off gently and buried his face in Jim's stomach. Jim's hands knotted into his hair, and Spock felt secure. Yes, he thought. He loved this man. 

***

"Bones," Jim was saying as he paced the patio barefoot. His left hand was shoved in his back pocket. Spock was seated at his desk, but through the partly open window, Jim's half of the conversation was audible. Spock imagined McCoy's shocked face and found himself amused. 

"You know, 'crazy' isn't a word you should just fling around. I thought you were a doctor." 

Jim stopped along the garden wall and rested a hand against it. Spock watched him trace the mortar lines that defined each block. 

"I know it's quick, but hear me out."

Jim sighed, and there was a pause. He traced three more lines. 

"He's an ambassador."

Jim turned around, so Spock could again view his face, and he rolled his eyes. 

"Half," he said. "No, human." 

He scraped his toe in the red dirt and appeared to bite the inside of his lip as he listened. His eyebrows furrowed. 

"Two non-humans does not constitute a— Bones, don't be an asshole."

Jim sighed again and took a seat in one of the chairs, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. He nodded his head several times as McCoy spoke. 

"Spock," Jim said. Six seconds passed before he spoke again. "Well, I'm sure that's just a coincidence."

He sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck. He left his hand there. 

"Yes." Then, "A few years, why?" 

Undoubtedly, they were discussing Spock's age. McCoy would be correct to question Jim on this point. It was in his nature. Spock clasped his hands together and held them on the desk.

"That makes two of us," Jim said, almost too quietly for Spock to hear, but there was a smile in his voice. He nodded a few times and then said, "Okay. Yeah, I'll be home. Later." 

He tapped his screen to end the call, but he didn't get up from the chair. Spock dipped his head and continued to work for another eleven minutes, fourteen seconds before Jim came inside and draped himself over Spock's back. 

"Lunch?" he asked, kissing the side of Spock's face. He went into the kitchen to replicate something without waiting for Spock to answer. 

Jim was quiet for the rest of the afternoon, sitting next to the fireplace, flicking the cover of his comm open and closed with an index finger. Though it was too warm in the room for him, the fire was lit, and it cast long shadows over his face and chest. 

"You are upset," Spock said and came to sit next to him on the floor. 

Jim shook his head.

"Just thinking," he said. 

"About what?"

"You, mostly." Jim stretched his legs out in front of him and laced his fingers together, holding both arms over his head. His knuckles cracked. He lowered his hands to the floor and leaned back on them. "I talked to a friend of mine earlier. You probably overheard."

"Only fragments."

"He was just questioning my life choices, that's all."

"He does not approve of you remaining on New Vulcan?"

"Among other things."

"Ah," Spock said. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he placed a hand on each of his knees and exhaled. He studied the fire, the blue inner cone of the flames which swayed with the breeze down the chimney. "Do you wish to end our association?" he asked finally, and the words sent a chill through him.

"What?" Jim asked, turning toward him. "No!"

Spock nodded in relief and took a deep breath. "Your choices are your own," he said. "If he is a true friend, he will respect them."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yes."

Jim was quiet for a minute. "You don't want out of this, right?" he asked.

"I do not," Spock assured him and placed a hand over Jim's on the floor. "Are you hungry?"

Jim shook his head. "I just want to sit here for a while," he said.

"I will leave you to your thoughts."

"Stay?" Jim asked. He sat forward and reached a hand around Spock's waist, turning toward him. His fingers curled into the fabric of Spock's robes, and Spock could sense his desperation. Jim rested his head on Spock's shoulder but didn't speak.

***

Two months of living with Jim taught Spock several things. Jim was actually a passable but messy cook and was best with a replicator. He stayed up too late and woke too early, which resulted in a caffeine dependency. He did not always put his soiled clothes into the hamper, nor did he remember to carry his multiple glasses to the kitchen. He left them half-drunk throughout the house: on the desk, on the coffee table, on the small patio table, little reminders that Spock was no longer alone. He cherished them. 

Jim had a fondness for intimacy in the shower, so Spock regularly indulged him. This morning, he held Jim against the shower wall and kissed along his jawline, groaning as Jim rubbed against his thigh and made quiet, whimpering sounds. They were intoxicating, so Spock gently ran his teeth along Jim's skin to elicit more of them. 

When they had both achieved orgasm and Jim appeared sated, he kissed Spock sweetly and climbed out of the shower.

"Gonna make coffee," he called and padded naked out of the bathroom. 

Spock finished his shower, enjoying the movement of the sonic waves over his skin, replaying the performance of Jim's fingers over his body. He dressed in a light robe and went to join Jim in the kitchen, but he was surprised to find him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Jim's head was bowed, and he held something in his palm. Spock's eyes flickered to the bedside table, conspicuously devoid of the pendant. He reached for his throat and let out a sigh.

"What the hell is this?" Jim asked flatly, not turning to look at him. 

"Jim—"

"Is this...me? Is this supposed to be me?"

"Allow me to explain."

"Explain what? That you apparently knew me where you came from? That I was a starship captain? That we served together? That you've been lying to me for seven fucking months?"

Spock walked to his side and sat down on the bed, but Jim bolted up and moved several feet away. 

"I have not lied to you," Spock said.

"You never told me that you knew me!" Jim half shouted, his face reddening. Spock could see the veins standing out from Jim's temples. 

"I realize now that I should have said something."

"Is this why you were so nice when we first met? Said I could use your house? Agreed to have dinner with me? Is it because of him?"

"You are Jim Kirk," Spock began. 

"So I'm a reminder of him." 

"No," Spock said with force, though he tried to keep his voice gentle. 

"The worst part is that I actually care about you," Jim said, scrubbing a hand across his face over and over. His voice broke on the last syllable. He closed his fist around the pendant. "God, I feel like a fucking idiot."

"I care for you deeply—"

"I don't want to hear it," Jim snapped.

"You must calm down. Sit with me, and let me explain what you have seen," Spock asked and held out a hand. 

"I've gotta go," Jim said roughly. He stepped forward and placed the pendant back on the bedside table. "Here."

He turned and walked out. Spock jumped when the front door slammed, and the next few breaths he took were unsteady. He noticed Jim's comm abandoned on the bed. Spock's eyes began to sting, and then his vision blurred. He sat unmoving for twenty minutes, thirty, forty...until it became clear that Jim was not coming back. 

***

Spock waited all day for Jim to return, but when the sun began to set and he had yet to come home, Spock went out looking for him. He decided to check the campsite. Jim sometimes went to meet friends in the evenings; perhaps he was there now. Spock did not know what he would say, what he could say to convince Jim to return with him, but he must try. He would put his Vulcan heritage to the side and beg, if Jim asked it of him. 

He walked quickly across town, past the academy building, which was still alive with activity. It was cold now that the sun had set, and Spock shivered. In his compromised state, he had not thought to wear a jacket. He went directly to the tent Jim had previously occupied, but it was clear as he approached it that someone else occupied it now. He inquired as to whether the new tenant knew of Jim or his whereabouts, but the woman had no answers. Spock thanked her and continued to walk the line of tents until it was clear his actions were in vain. 

He entered the academy building, looked in the meditation garden and climbed the steps to the roof, but Jim was not there. Spock was overwhelmed with sadness as he walked home. Where would Jim sleep? Had he eaten? Spock could not even recall if Jim had put on shoes. He rubbed his arms against the cool air.

A figure slumped against the front door with his knees tucked to his chest, head resting on them. Even in the low light, Spock knew from the shape of his hands that the man was Jim. He kneeled beside him and placed a hand on Jim's, squeezing. 

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Jim shrugged.

"Do you wish to go inside?" Spock asked. Jim shook his head, so Spock continued. "You are not a substitute for him."

"I know," Jim said against his legs. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Do not be," Spock said and, with his other hand, smoothed Jim's hair. 

"I didn't know what that thing was," Jim continued, his voice muffled. "You always wear it, but you won't ever talk about it. I definitely wasn't expecting to see a holo of myself when I activated it."

"I should have told you about him."

"No, I...I understand why you didn't. Hell, I probably wouldn't have believed you." Jim sighed and lifted his head. "I guess this is why you've never tried to meld with me, huh? Because I'd see him?"

Spock shook his head. "I greatly desire to join with your mind," he murmured. 

"Then why haven't we done it?" Jim asked, frowning. 

"I thought it would be too intimate a request."

"We live together," Jim countered. "I've slept next to you for months. Spock, you had my dick in your mouth this morning. How much more intimate do we need to get?"

"You are young," Spock almost whispered. "It would be unfair of me to request that you bond with someone so much older."

"Okay, first?" Jim said. "I know you're a lot older than I am, and I'm okay with that. Actually, we're both going to live about the same number of years, so when you think about it, it's pretty logical."

"I suppose," Spock admitted.

"And second, did you seriously just use the 'b' word?"

Spock paused to replay his own words, then laughed softly and rested his head against Jim's. 

"I did," he said. 

"Yeah, I thought so," Jim said. "How 'bout we go inside, and you show me how this melding thing works?"

***

"If you say 'geriatric' one more time, I swear to god, Bones..."

"Kid, you've got to work on your sense of humor," McCoy's voice rang from the common room. "I'm happy as hell for you. Surprised, but happy."

"Thanks," Jim said, and he caught Spock's eye as he entered with a tray of tea. 

"Doctor," Spock said, offering him a mug. He sat beside Jim on the couch. 

"I can't tell you how strange it is that you're living with an older version of my first officer," McCoy said to Jim. He indicated Spock with a bob of his head. "Seems like yours is nicer."

"My younger self lacks confidence," Spock said to McCoy.

"He's a pain in the ass," McCoy said, "but Uhura seems to like him well enough. She says hi, by the way."

Jim grinned. "I owe her a drink."

"We're scheduled to be on planet for five days," McCoy said. "There's plenty of time to catch up."

"I've gotta see this younger version of you," Jim said, elbowing Spock. 

"And what if you find him more to your taste?"

"Too bad," Jim said and grinned. "I'm taken."

"In that case," Spock said, "I shall invite him for lunch. I will ask our father as well."

"You'll understand when I'm too busy to attend that luncheon," McCoy quipped. 

"It seems as though your dislike of Vulcan culture is a universal constant," Spock told him. "I recall your counterpart making similar statements."

"Bones, you have to come," Jim added. "It'll be too weird without you there."

McCoy glared at Jim over his mug, but Spock knew he did it with affection. 

"Fine," he said. "But I'm warning you: the younger one? He's no picnic."

***

The tone sounded to signal someone at the front door, but Spock was assembling the lunch trays. 

"I'll get it," Jim told him, hopping down from where he sat on the counter. He kissed Spock's cheek as he went, and Spock allowed himself to momentarily blush. No one could see him, after all. He heard the creak of the door's hinges and Jim's bright "hello!" 

Not for the first time, he worried that Jim's opinion of him would be forever altered once he had met the Spock of his own timeline. But Jim kept a hand on his leg throughout the meal, leaned into his shoulder when he laughed, and kept referring to him as "my Spock" when he recounted the past year. The younger Spock behaved politely toward Jim, but he was reserved. Uhura sat to his left, McCoy to his right, and Sarek at the head of the table. 

"So I guess I was supposed to be your captain," Jim said to the younger Spock and shook his head. "Sorry we won't get to do that."

"It is curious how our timeline has been affected," the younger Spock agreed. 

"Your language skills would've come in handy," Uhura added. "And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've actually missed your antics the last couple years."

"Don't encourage him," McCoy muttered. 

"We'll have to keep in better touch," Jim said and grinned at her. "Looks like I'll be staying here on the colony a while longer, so you'll know where to reach me." Under the table, he squeezed Spock's thigh and shifted his hand an inch closer to Spock's groin. Spock knew this was not accidental, nor was it accidental when Jim's touches softened, turning into light strokes. 

"Sure we can't convince you to re-enlist?" Uhura asked. 

"I like it here," Jim said. 

"James has been a great asset to the colony," Sarek said. Spock noted that Jim winked at him, and Sarek looked pleased. His younger self looked appropriately shocked, eyes widening momentarily as he glanced between Jim and Sarek.

Spock thought back to the first time Jim Kirk had met his father, how Spock had not informed Jim of Sarek's identity. Jim had not been hurt, merely perplexed. He and Sarek had never grown close over the years, but they were friendly. This Jim had taken to Sarek as he had taken to Spock: effortlessly and with enthusiasm. He'd held Spock's hand in Sarek's home, chatted about conservation, and tried all of the Vulcan dishes willingly. Privately, Sarek expressed to Spock that he was impressed with Jim, in spite of his youth. He would make a satisfying partner. In this universe, Spock was a great deal older than his father. He no longer feared Sarek's rejection, but that did not make his approval less of an honor. 

Jim bid the younger Spock farewell with the ta'al raised, and he hugged Uhura before she stepped out the door. To McCoy, he extended a hand. They shook, and McCoy told Spock "good luck with this one" before he too left. Only Sarek remained, but he took his leave not long after, once he had promised Jim that yes, he would be pleased to accept a dinner invitation for the following evening.

Jim hugged Spock from behind when they were again alone in the house, hooking his chin over Spock's shoulder.

"I like your dad," he said and slipped a hand inside Spock's robes. "Want to help me with dishes?"

"Not if you continue to touch me in that manner."

"Oops," Jim said and slid his hand inside further. "Still worried I'm going to run away with the other you?"

"You have effectively assuaged my concern."

"I'm just getting started," Jim said with a laugh. He turned Spock around and took him by the hand. "Come on. Let's start cleaning up. I'll assuage you against the counter."

***

Spock knew that it would not be long, once news of the NVSA's opening had circulated among the Federation planets, before Jim would be courted for more high-profile projects. He had been granted his full architectural license and was approved to practice on most M-Class planets. Spock suspected—no, he _knew_ that Jim remained on New Vulcan because of him, but Spock had no desire to stand in the way of Jim's career. Spock himself could not leave; rebuilding Vulcan was what remained for him. His actions had caused the planet's loss; it was his duty to restore and rebuild what he could. But that duty was not Jim's. 

Jim hid the offers, scanning over them on his PADD but never mentioning them. The details passed to Spock accidentally through melds, along with Jim's excitement to have received them. Jim was not attempting obfuscation, merely to spare Spock any injury—he knew this, and yet Jim's secrecy caused him to feel bitter. Jim cheerfully went to work every day, where he oversaw the construction of the Department of Interstellar Propulsive Research and Development. He went through his messages at night when he returned home and sat with Spock in the common room, but they never talked about the contents or the consequences. 

Spock illogically dreaded the day Jim would receive an offer too enticing to refuse. When that day came, he knew that he should feel only happiness for Jim. He would encourage him to accept, and he would shield his despair. Jim must never be aware of his suffering. He had been given an additional fifteen months and eight days with Jim, and for that he would always be grateful.

Spock knew the offer had arrived from the look on Jim's face, from the delight that passed into Spock when Jim leaned over to kiss his cheek. 

"Hey," he said and perched on the edge of Spock's desk. "So I've got something to tell you."

"Indeed?" Spock said, conscious of how high his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and regarded Jim neutrally, leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands on his lap. 

"I know you know about the messages I keep getting," Jim said frankly. "I also know you're pretending not to notice them."

"I am aware that your talents are in demand," Spock said.

"Yeah, so," Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I've actually been asked to come to Earth, to consult on the new Starfleet headquarters."

"That is a prestigious venture," Spock told him. 

"I think they're mostly interested in me because of my name, but it's still flattering," Jim continued. "They want me to come back to Earth right away. I guess San Francisco is pretty messed up after that ship crashed."

"The damage is extensive." 

"I don't know how long I'd be there," Jim said. "At least a year. They'd put me up in housing."

"That is generous," Spock said, aware of a tightness in his throat. He swallowed and blinked several times. 

"Pay isn't bad either," Jim added. "It's not great, but it's more than I'm making now."

"I am pleased for you," Spock murmured. 

"That just leaves you and me," Jim said and stood, pacing four steps toward the door. 

"My work requires me to remain on New Vulcan," Spock said quietly. 

"I know that." 

He turned back to Spock and looked at him from across the room. The distance between them felt suddenly massive. Spock thought of a morning, not long from now, when he would wake alone, when Jim would not walk through the door after a day of work, when he would not approach the desk as he did now.

"Jim..." he said, but Jim shook his head. 

"Tell me you want me to stay." He said it firmly, with both hands pressed flat against the desk so that his fingertips were bright red. 

"What I want is irrelevant," Spock said finally.

"What you want is _everything_."

"I will not stand in the way of—"

"Of what?" Jim countered. "My career? My happiness? If you're sick of me, just say so."

"I could no more grow tired of you than I could of logic," Spock said weakly. Jim's face softened. He bit his lip and walked around the edge of the desk. 

"So you don't want me to leave?" he asked.

"No," Spock said. 

"Then I'm not leaving." Jim placed a hand on both of Spock's shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "I love you, and I'm pretty sure you love me, so where's the logic in that?"

"I would not advise you to reject such an offer," Spock said.

"Here's an offer," Jim said, and Spock watched his mouth curve into a smile. "I stay here permanently. We get a dog or one of those sehlat cubs I've seen you look at. I start my own firm, and you stop thinking about me leaving."

He framed Spock's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. When he pulled away, Jim gave him a wide-eyed look, waiting for a reply. He projected fear, but it was overwhelmed by excitement and hope. He smoothed a thumb over Spock's cheek. 

In another lifetime, they had chosen career over family, because Spock knew the explorer in Jim Kirk would never settle down. He had cherished the time they spent on Vulcan together and the occasions they were both on-planet in San Francisco. Now, Spock looked into the eyes of another Jim Kirk, who carded his fingers through Spock's hair. 

"I accept," Spock said, and Jim leaned in to kiss him again. 

"And you have to let me put a second floor on the house," Jim said against his lips.

"Anything you wish."

"Oh yeah?" Jim said, and Spock could feel waves of amusement as he settled onto Spock's lap. "I'll keep that in mind." 

***

**Five years later**

I-Chaya stretched lazily into the afternoon sunlight where they sat on the patio. He was fat, even for a cub, but Jim held out more food to him and stroked his forehead. I-Chaya crunched contentedly and curled up on the ground next to Jim's chair. Jim's fingers were tangled in his fur. He cast a glance to Spock and nodded down at I-Chaya, grinning. 

"I told you it was a good surprise," Jim said. 

"It will be a large surprise, once he is fully grown," Spock replied, amused. 

"I think we can handle it."

"Undoubtedly." 

Jim laughed and lay back on the chair, folding his hands on his stomach. I-Chaya nuzzled his hand until he resumed stroking. 

"You're spoiled," Jim said. 

"That is because you indulge him," Spock pointed out. 

"How can you refuse this face?" Jim asked, rubbing I-Chaya's nose. 

"I manage."

"You're the one who let him up on the bed earlier," Jim said. "Oh, did you check with your dad? Is it okay if we stay with him while the roof's off?"

"You know perfectly well that my father welcomes you in his home at all times."

"Well," Jim said, winking. "I didn't want to assume that I could just move in for a month."

"He has the guest room prepared."

"Perfect," Jim said and pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. "You know, that means we'll be having sex in your dad's house."

"You could exercise self control," Spock reminded him.

"Hey, I'm not the one with the ramped-up sex drive."

"I warned you that it was a possibility as I age."

"You weren't kidding," Jim said with a laugh. "I'm only thirty, and you outlast me."

"I did not hear you complain last night."

"I'm not complaining!" Jim exclaimed. He reached out for Spock's hand, but I-Chaya claimed his attention again. "You're not going to let me touch him?" Jim said, scratching behind I-Chaya's ears. "Fine, I'll just do it later when you're in your crate."

"He will not fit in it for long."

"That's why we have a backyard," Jim said. "And...I was thinking...we should probably get him a playmate."

"We do not have room to house two sehlats," Spock said, glancing around the small back yard. Already, I-Chaya had made tracks in the dirt, disturbing the neat rows of plants. 

"I was thinking a little smaller, maybe a quarter Vulcan," Jim said casually, but his voice rose on the last word. His hand stilled in I-Chaya's fur, and Spock was keenly aware of his anxiousness. He pushed back a wave of fondness as Jim's meaning became clear to him. His voice caught in his throat, but he managed to nod. 

"We're going to be awesome parents," Jim declared as I-Chaya climbed up and onto his lap. Spock marveled at Jim, at the happiness that radiated off of him, of the place in his own mind that was no longer empty. 

"Yes," Spock agreed. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing the happiest of birthdays to [Candy](http://cannedebonbon.tumblr.com/), my partner in Kirk/Spock Prime shipping crime. It felt awesome to give Spock Prime a happy ending for once. Thanks for brainstorming with me (and for the notepad). 
> 
> _Thank you_ , as always, to my darling, darling [jouissant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant) for the beta. <3
> 
> You can also find me [on Tumblr](http://museaway.tumblr.com) and [on Livejournal](http://museaway.livejournal.com).


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